I couldn't find my phone. I'd looked in all the obvious places - and less obvious - with no success. 'Surely I can't have lost my phone in the very week that I've finally learned my number?'
Fortunately Husband has the technology. A bit like the CIA or FBI he can trace me via my phone. Or that's the theory. As I rarely carry it it's not as effective a trace as one in my shoe.
We'd already tried phoning it to determine its location. 'But this will make it ring even if it's on silent,' he assured me. And it did.
'So it was on silent? That explains why I never hear it ringing,' I said. I paused and then added, 'But I don't know how to put it on silent.'
Turned out my phone was on the cookery book shelf in the kitchen. Of course.